Right now, I live in Makati but my real system is not here.
My income generating assets are 700 kilometers away in Antique, running quietly in their own rhythm, mostly without daily interference from me.
I used to think that meant distance. Now I realize it means structure.
The farm was not designed as a business at first. It became one through survival, trial, and necessity.
I have two hi bred sows that usually generate around ₱35,000 per parity.
(Duroc-pietrain sows, Bleach and Brenda.)
In good cycles, gross can reach around ₱50,000 per batch depending on survival rates and timing.
I also keep two mestisa sows managed with the help of my now separated cousin who is single at almost 40. Their piglets are usually sold at around ₱2,500 each at about 60 days old.
(Mestizas sows Lyne and Maia with her piglets born last May 2, 2026.)
Sometimes we do not treat everything as pure inventory. Some are butchered for kilo sales or family consumption, so the system also feeds the household directly.
There are also remaining chickens. I reduced them by about 75 percent when I left Antique because my mom could not manage them the way I used to. What remains is still active in the system.
(When I was hands-on with my chickens.)
She continues raising them. Some are used for family meals. Some are sold in pairs for around ₱500.
It is not a large operation on paper.
But it is complete.
Together with the ₱8,000 monthly allowance from my aunt, the structure produces roughly ₱250,000 in clean annual net income.
It does not look impressive to outsiders.
But it is powerful because almost nothing is wasted on overhead.
The system does not need to look big. It only needs to stay alive.
My Makati life, on the other hand, is unusually quiet.
People hear Makati and imagine constant spending, pressure, or fast city living. My reality is different.
I stay at home most of the time. I do laundry, wash dishes, write on my phone, and watch YouTube with my cousin Sachi while checking updates from Antique.
One night, she looked at me while I was scrolling through messages.
“So your farm still runs even if you are not there?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Yes. It still runs even if I am not physically there.”
She stayed quiet for a moment, then said, “That sounds like you never really left.”
I did not answer right away. Because she was not wrong. She's 6 years old but so observant.
My aunt covers household expenses. Food, electricity, water, and internet are already handled.
So my farm income does not get swallowed by survival here. It grows. It stabilizes. It pays down obligations and strengthens the system back home.
That is the real difference.
In many setups, income disappears immediately into city life costs. In mine, the structure is separated. One side lives simply. The other side produces.
The family is what makes the system work.
My mom handles daily operations in Antique including feeding, care, and reporting cycles.
Most updates come naturally during her work.
“Nay, how are they?” I'll ask most of the time.
“Everything is fine. One sow just has a lower appetite,” she will reply.
If a sow is nearing farrowing, she usually notices early.
It is not formal reporting. It is daily awareness built into her work.
My father, who drives a tricycle (our own unit, from my mother’s earnings in caring for my animals), handles feed logistics.
I pay for feeds via GCash to the store owner, coordinated first through Facebook Messenger.
Then I message him.
“Dad, have you picked up the feeds?”
And he replies, “Not yet, I will get them now.”
He picks them up along his normal routes, so there is no extra delivery cost.
It works because it fits their routine, not because it is forced.
My youngest brother is currently in college, 2nd year.
One gloomy afternoon, my phone buzzed again. Happens midweek mostly.
“Nang (means older sister), can you send GCash? I need to print a lot of materials.”
I stared at the message for a while.
Not because I was upset (but sometimes I am, haha).
It reminds me that even systems that work still have pressure points.
Like many students in a provincial setup, weekly GCash support is part of the natural flow. It is not always predictable, but it is part of how education is sustained in a family-based system.
Like many students in a province setup, weekly GCash support has become part of the natural flow. It is not always predictable, but it is part of how education is sustained in a family based system. It also creates a constant reminder that cash flow is not only about production, but also timing and responsibility.
Sweeney (first sow of mine) farrowing, my brother cared for her because he was more experienced. I just observed it then I did it later with Brenda and Bleach.
He also handles critical labor during high risk periods in the farm when he is home, helping care for newborn piglets, trimming tails and teeth, and staying awake during difficult farrowing nights when attention decides survival.
In livestock systems like this, infrastructure matters, but human attention matters more. Especially at night when nothing is predictable.
There is also a circulation system built into the family itself, powered by mobile load and digital payments.
My mom sells data promos as a sideline. When capital runs out, I send load from Makati. She collects cash locally and uses it for household needs and small operational expenses, including basic food and necessities like bread that sustain her strength through constant work on the farm.
Part of the flow also goes to my dad for fuel and daily mobility, and he eventually sends money back through digital channels when needed.
Money does not stay in one place.
It moves through people.
It circulates instead of leaking.
What we built is not a corporate system.
It is a provincial survival economy upgraded with smartphones, GCash, and basic coordination.
It is not perfect.
But it works.
And for now, that is enough.
All photos are mine.
Thank you for reading this far.
PeakD literally became my diary, reflection platform on how far I went already to keep myself grounded.
See you on part 3.☺️